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Ashim Ahluwalia’s Miss Lovely opens a can of worms revealing the underbelly of an ‘underground factory’ in filmmaking that began in the late 1970s and is still going on under a new guise. This was a world distanced from mainstream Bollywood boasting big banners, significant songs and music, an impressive starcast and a good release. But there were two groups of producers operating in this business.
One group was led by the Ramsay Brothers that was legit in the making, distribution and exhibition of their films. The ‘underground’ filmmakers formed a much larger group who took a fast piggyback ride on the popularity of Ramsay Brothers’ films, shot a film in four days, with hardly any music, crude cinematography, terrible sets and no stars. But they became so popular that others joined the bandwagon but could not reach anywhere remotely close to the Ramsays. The focus was soft-porn and horror. How did these two apparently ‘unfriendly’ elements come together? The films would use ‘monster’ figures making love to buxom leading ladies, who would either panic or surrender or do both. Ramsay Brothers films did not fit into what the common man expects from the word ‘horror’ and ‘soft porn.’ They just added an additional track of horror — loud sound effects such as creaking doors, thunder and lightning, scary visuals like blood flowing from showers and taps instead of water, shadowy figures, translucent curtains whizzing in the breeze, bleeding mouths, etc. The story had an element of the supernatural intercut with songs, melodramatic plotlines, dance numbers, garish costumes and some crude bed scenes. Sangita Gopal in Marriage and Form in New Bollywood Cinema (2012) says that there were no horror films during the classic period of Hindi cinema between 1945 and 1970. Films like Mahal (1958), Bees Saal Baad (1963) and Bhoot Bangla (1965) were more concerned with the “bhatki hui aatma” than with the horrific though sometimes, despite Gopal’s assertion, the films often suggested the opposite. “Horror was more or less unknown in Indian cinema before the 1970s,” she sums up. On the budgetary constraints of horror and soft-porn in Bollywood, Aditi Sen says, “Besides the Ramsay Brothers, horror filmmakers in India have not been able to make truly professional films due to severe budgetary constraints. The Ramsays, too, made low-budget films but they struggled relatively less than directors who had jumped on their bandwagon.” The ‘soft-porn’ in these films is kindergarten stuff placed against intimate scenes and item numbers in mainstream films today. The ‘factory’ is still functioning, using similar horror-soft porn models but making the films on a much lower scale. Ramsay Brothers had a constant pool of actors. Among familiar faces are Deepak Parashar, Huma Khan, Aarti Gupta, Raza Murad, Mohan Joshi, comedians Jagdeep and Rajendranath, who took home somewhere between Rs 25,000 and Rs 35,000 per day for two days of shooting for a film made on a total budget of around Rs 10 to 15 lakh. Today, for the big budget horror-cum-soft porn is made on high budgets with known stars and the smaller producers have had to practically bow out.
Into the 1990s, many filmmakers like Mohan Bhakri and Joginder Shelly made steamy flicks screened in isolated, small and decrepit single-screen theatres in the outskirts of towns and cities or some shady screening place in rural areas. The audience, entirely male, streamed in from the world of rickshawallahs, porters, truck drivers, etc. The industry was thriving. But there were other filmmakers who did not bother about a censor certificate, shot their films with strange faces within ramshackle workshops and empty factory sheds, had their own very bad editing infrastructure and screened them clandestinely in curtained-off spaces anywhere. Nothing was legit about these films but gave a livelihood to many. The Ramsay Brothers realised they had stumbled on to a goldmine after they made Ek Nanhi Munni Ladki Thi (1972), which was not a big hit but one scene featuring a monster became very popular with the audience. This led them on to make a series of sensationally successful horror films like Do Gaz Zameen Ke Neechey (1972), Darwaza (1978), Hotel (1981), Purana Mandir (1984), Tehkhana (1986), Daak Bangla (1987), Veerana (1988), Purani Haveli (1989), and Shaitani Ilaka and Bandh Darwaza (1990). Their later films featured stars like Navin Nischol, Rakesh Roshan, Dilip Dhawan, Aruna Irani, Javed Khan and Sriprada. An amazing discovery is that a large section of Purani Haweli was shot at the Palace of the Nawab of Janjira near Murud village. It was a colonial mansion atop a hill overlooking an island transformed into a Moorish coastal fortress. Gopal offers an interesting comment on the up scaling of the horror-soft-porn flick in the 2000s made by big banner production houses, established filmmakers and audience-drawing stars. Examples are many — Vikram Bhatt’s Raaz (2002), Ram Gopal Varma’s Bhoot (2003) lifted from What Lies Beneath, a much better Hollywood product, Haunted (2011) and so on.
The reluctant romantic Attired in ripped jeans and a military green jacket with Highway emblazoned on it, he might as well be epitomising the spirit of his forthcoming film. But filmmaker Imtiaz Ali, whose latest directorial venture Highway, is all set to release in February is anything but an attention-seeker. The director’s job, he believes, is behind the scenes. And to tell stories as differently as possible, “else audiences would be bored.” So about the kidnapping drama that forms the crux of Highway, he proclaims, “It’s not the kind of film people expect from me.” Strangely, viewers might take this maker rather seriously he certainly doesn’t and has no expectations from himself. Hence, there is no question of his past successes, his reputation of delivering three hits in a row weighing heavy on his shoulders. Philosophically, he observes, “One needs to take success and failure in equal measure.” On his uncanny knack of getting the pulse of youth right too, he is equally circumspect. He doesn’t really know how he is able to get iconic dialogues such as “mein apni favourite hoon” bang on except that, “I am people too and live among people.” Yet none of his characters are autobiographical, only, “have traces of me.” And guess what, this master of romance who has given us liltingly beautiful romantic films like Jab We Met and Love Aaj Kal is not a romantic at all. Instead he says, “I have no idea what love means or how to define it. All I have begun to understand is the journey of the heart with its infirmities, warts and all and, of course, its beauty.” Of course, tomorrow even if he were to attempt a horror or action thriller, relationships would be the defining thread. Human bonding certainly is at the heart of Highway too which might have traces of Stockholm syndrome as well. But the film that travels through picturesque locales of several states is no more no less special to him even though it could have been his first film. Actually, the idea of it has stayed with him for 12 long years when he made a television serial Rishtey on the same subject. While he began his career with small screen today, he feels he wasn’t cut out for it. Cinema and television, he perceives, as incredibly disparate mediums, especially in the manner in which these are consumed. Television soaps, he feels, are akin to assembly line production. While the same ill can plague cinema too, he asserts, “People respond to both mediums differently.” On the response to his films that find a resonance among both critics and audiences, he doesn’t think there is anything unusual about films being critically appreciated and commercially successful. He questions, “Isn’t Raju Hirani doing the same?” Not that he would like to follow anyone, or even repeat himself. Rather the most liberating aspect of being a director for him is to be able to make movies the way he wants to sans masala and cast actors who are suitable for the part. So after working with stars like Ranbir Kapoor and Saif Ali Khan, he chose Randeep Hooda for he fit the part of a small town guy to a T. Similarly, he might be having celebrated names such as A.R. Rahman and sound designer Resul Pookutty on board, he qualifies, “They are not just big names but very talented people who do exceptionally good work.” The music of Highway, which has irrepressible songs like “Patakha Guddi”, he asserts, “can’t be categorised but has to be tuned into while attaching yourself to the soul of the film.” Incidentally, the music by Rahman has not only the maverick composer singing “Maahi Ve” and “Patakha Guddi” but also the pretty and petite heroine Alia Bhatt crooning “Sooha Saha”. But of course, it’s not the music alone that is hitting the right notes. The film has been selected for its world premiere at the prestigious Berlin Film Festival. Imtiaz, however, makes light of it and says, “I don’t know much about festivals.” Clearly, he is not only a reluctant romantic but equally reticent about taking credit. But then, the maker who has unfailingly touched a chord with audiences would rather let his films speak for themselves than go gung ho himself.
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Actually with his rockstar-like looks, he could have easily made his debut in tinseltown as an actor. But acting was never an option even though he did play lead part during his theatre days. Today as he lives in times when directors are getting their fair share of limelight, he rues, “I do miss my anonymity.”